the muzzles of their rifles so close that the hair was singed, sent three well-directed balls grinding through his body. The shots all went near the heart, and he never arose from the earth, but rolled over upon his side, and with a low, gurgling groan, trembled and died. It was _sport_, _all through_; but I enjoyed _this stage_ of the proceedings better than any other. As he lay there, with his nine feet of power stretched upon the sand so closely to me that I could feel his dying-breath and touch his shaggy mane, I felt happy that he was dead. He was nine feet in length, and was the most powerful lion we had ever seen. Some of his teeth were two inches long; and after looking carefully at the huge mouth and powerful jaws, I concluded that I was at one time nearer being lion-meat than I had before believed. The blood-hound stood proudly by, wagging his tail as though waiting for the praise for killing him. Poor fool! He was not as much as a gray-back in the folds of the shirt of a professional tramp. I felt very glad that I did not tackle the animal alone. We carefully examined every cartridge we had. Charles said if I could have caught the tail I might have gone to thunder and fought my own battle, like he did with the buffalo. We looked carefully around that day, expecting to find the mate; but we saw no more, and the next morning journeyed on. When we were about the center of the territory we struck south for the Red River, which bounds the territory on the south. We struck the Washita River, Wild Horse Creek, and many other small streams, finding many cattle along every water, and game in all directions. Great herds of buffaloes were daily seen heading to the north. There being plenty of good water all along the route from the Canadian to the Red River, the journey was a _pleasant_ one. The country of the Red River was rough as the Canadian, and was good for naught but raising stock. We left the Red River and went down the Big Washita; and then on to the Brazos, and down its head-waters to the Double Mountain, Texas, which we had been told was the range of the main buffalo-herd of the south. The story was certainly correct, for they were here by the thousands; and not being nearly so wild as where we had hunted, it was no more to shoot a buffalo here than to kill a cow. The country was rough, and destitute of all but short grass; and though there were _cattle here_, they were not nearly so numerous as at _other places_ where we had been. There was a little ranch now and then stuck in among the rocks--and one man stays in each; but they carry their lives in a _holy pocket_ every day and night. They have become somewhat _reconciled_ to this hermit-life, and do not give the danger its full weight. This is about as _wild_ a country as lies within the borders of our _Union_; and if a person had the material, and were prepared, he could make crooked whisky here without molestation by the authorities.